05 February 2009

Jaguar, Cuts You Up:Coda

I find you in the morning...
after dreams of distant signs
You pour yourself over me
like the sun through the blinds
You lift me up and get me out
Keep me walking but never shout
"Hold the secret close", I hear you say

The heart of the Universe and Jaguar finds himself on the boundary edge of sleep. Dimly aware that he was lying on stone, blood warm from his body heat. Sun beats down making his skin tingle from the small needles of light. It feels good. The wind blows gently, caressing him, whispering in his ear.

“Lover, awake”

His eyes flick open, blinking rapidly against the light. Small tears from in the corners. Shivering slightly he draws in a deep breath. The air is warm, carrying with it the dusty tastes of terra cotta, iron, sand. There is moisture in the air, a mineral tang heavy in his nostrils. But something is missing.

You know the way it throws about.
It takes you in and spits you out
It spits you out when you desire
To conquer it, to feel you're higher
To follow it you must be clean,
With mistakes that you do mean
Move the heart, switch the pace
Look for what seems out of place

The Other is gone. A quick flip of the head confirms it. Jaguar is alone on the rock next to the pool. He sits up quickly, the muscles in his back and legs protesting. The faint soreness in them brings a smile to his lips, which he strokes absent mindedly, sitting in the sun. His bottom lip is tender and sore. Running a thumb across it, rasping slightly with the grains of sand stuck to his skin, he is not surprised to see a small crimson smear highlighting the swirls of his skin. Licking his lips, he can taste the salty metal of blood, seeping from small wounds in the skin. His pulse picks up, eyes dilating. Jaguar smiles to light up the world.

Yeah on and on it goes,
calling like a distant wind
Through the zero hour we'll walk...
cut the thick and break the thin
No sound to break, no moment clear
When all the doubts are crystal clear
Crashing hard into the secret wind

She was here. There is no doubt now in Jaguar’s heart. The ache in his muscles, the wounds in his lip. His back and shoulders burned slightly, Jaguar guessed there were some scratches. Bemusedly, he realizes that he is completely naked. His skin, rough and skeined with scratches, small angry red tracks from rock and…passions…was clean and fairly glowed in the crystalline light of the desert. A booming laugh erupts from his chest. Yes, yes, he remembers the water, and her embrace, liquid warmth dissolving the boundaries between their skins. A powerful surge of memory caused him to gasp and lower his head, black hair hanging over his face like a veil. To his surprise, a single tear seeped from his eyes and dripped down to be absorbed by the hot dryness of the rock. Such was the power of joy.

You know the way it twists and turns
Changing colour, spinning yarns
You know the way it leaves you dry
It cuts you up, it takes you high
You know the way it's painted gold
Is it honey? Is it gold?

Jaguar sat quiet, stonelike, meditating in the sun. The day was heating up, and he felt the urge to move, to stretch, to run. He rotated onto his knees, hands splayed out on the rock in front of him. He found himself staring down into the pool that was the site of his recent consummation. The dark quicksilver surface rippled languidly in the breeze.

A pair of luminous black eyes peering back at him through the distortion of the aqueous mirror. A face he almost didn’t recognize. Jaguar considered this unsettling image. Who was it? This was not the creature he knew.

You know the way it throws about.
It takes you in and spits you out
It spits you out when you desire
To conquer it, to feel you're higher
To follow it you must be clean,
With mistakes that you do mean
Move the heart, switch the pace
Look for what seems out of place

A hawk screamed in the warm distance. Jaguar jerked his head up sharply, startled by the metallic screech. He could see the bird, circling in the distance, and a small smile touched his lips as he considered his kinship with the feathered hunter. Circling, looking, hunting: a cosmic tarantella defining the parameters of life. He grunted in satisfaction and returned his gaze to the water. He knew now the difference, he could see it was the eyes.

No longer were the eyes mirrors of a lost soul, a being ground down from years of entrapment. The eyes were sharp, relaxed and no longer carried the trapped spirit of a life lived in fear. Jaguar smiled, the smile turning into a growl, turning into a roar. He raised his head and arms to the Sun and bellowed. Scared, the nearby coyote and hares alit swiftly through the brush.

The ghosts were gone, Jaguar knew. His heart was expanding, for all to see through the polished diamonds of his eyes.

Standing, searching the desert, he saw no trace of the Other, except for a line of footprints leading off into the distance. The prints were beginning to blur as the wind blew sand into the hollows. Jaguar stared along the line to the horizon, sniffing the wind. They were in the opposite direction from where he had come. Once, he thought he caught her scent, and considered following after, but quickly decided no, it was time to leave. He leapt off the rock and into the hot sand, loping steadily towards the cliffs in the distance, teeth bared into the wind.

Huntress and hunted, they would find each other, just like the sun and the moon.

And now I find the special kind
You, yourself, like sun through blinds
You lift me up and get me out…

(Italicized paragraphs are lyrics from “Cuts You Up” by Peter Murphy, from the album Deep)

This series would not have been possible without Teri, a.k.a ‘Artemis’. The fire is lit.


  1. That was pretty HOT Sir Irish!

  2. So like, is this Teri your lovah or something?

  3. Heart still pounding...
    Fabulous, my friend. Bravo.

  4. Now that was verrrrrrry nice. Thanks for a great read first thing in the (way too early) morning! :)

  5. Wow, wicked stuff as usual, what a story, your words are like an exquisite tapestry!

  6. nice!

    but you make me feel like such a shitty writer. now maybe I actually have to TRY harder. Sheesh.

  7. Cool. I have to say this Jaguar stuff has been a departure I've been bemusedly following. But I really like this one. AND that whole PM album is one of my top 100 most awesomes.

  8. Prefers Her Fantasy Life: Hehe! Only a lover in prose. Don't worry, he's still available LOL
    We were tag-teaming a story (go read my half! do it! do it!) and it just kind of developed into what it is. It's pretty hot, no?

    Aaanyway...great follow up, Irish. Love the Artemis reference again, thanks for letting me disappear. It's been fun, for lack of a more poetic adjective. By the way, you impress me - I actually had to consult the dictionary: "tantarella"???
    All I could find was "tarantella" which is an Italian folk dance...

    Either way, glad the fire is lit...I'll look forward to your solo writings. Thanks for letting me be a muse again!


  9. I swear, I get the shivers in naughty places imagining someone whispering to me, "lover, awake".

    Very well written my friend.

  10. Oh my, Irish, that was something. :-)

  11. like sun through blinds....

    sumatra in the press please.

  12. Irish.
    Oh, Irish??

    You really shouldn't write this kinda stuff when ThatManILove is out of town.

    That Janie Girl...mopes off to hug Zack the Wonderdog.

  13. Belle: Well, it was a desert…

    PHFL: (laugh) See Teri’s response below.

    CPM: Thank you, and thanks to Teri, too.

    24@Heart: You are welcome, something to get ya going in the a.m.!

    Rachael: Wicked good, thank you!

    Petra: Thank you. But you look so much better than I do, and I can’t afford the operations :(

    Rebekah: Good, thank you! And “Deep” is still in my constant rotation, good stuff!

    Teri: As always, a pleasure. And thank you for all of it…:)

    SK: Did it hit the spot? :)

    MD: “LoverawakeLoverawakeLoverawake…” thanks!

    OAM: Something good, I take it. thanks!

    CD: You know it, bro.

    MIW: Just like that. And I’m on my way with that coffee…

    Janie: Yes, ma’am? (laugh) Give me a heads up, I’ll write about glaciers or something next time ;)

  14. I just don't know how one person can be so prolific and not use any curse words or did I miss somethign

  15. bern: What the f*@k are you talking about? (laugh) Don't worry, I have plnety stored up:)


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

Tell me what is in your heart...